Classic Poem

The lamented Sir J AMES S IMPSON was the subject of angina pectoris.

I.

" A H me! alas! pain, pain, ever, for ever! "
So groaned upon his rock that Titan good,
Who by his brave and loving hardihood
Was to weak man of priceless boons the giver,
Which e'en the supreme tyrant could not sever
From us, once given; — we own him in our food
And in our blazing hearth's beatitude;
Yet still his cry was " pain, ever, for ever! "
Shall we a later, harder doom rehearse?
One came whose art men's dread of art repressed;
Mangled and writhing limbs he lulled to rest,
And stingless left the old Semitic curse;
Him, too, for these blest gifts did Zeus amerce?
He, too, had vultures tearing at his breast.

II.

Hush! Pagan plaints, our Titan is unbound,
The cruel beak and talons scared away;
As once upon his mother's lap he lay,
So rests his head august on holy ground;
Spells stronger than his own his pangs have found;
He hears no clamour of polemic fray,
Nor recks he what unthankful men may say;
Nothing can yex him in that peace profound.
And where his loving soul, his genius bold?
In slumber? or already sent abroad
On angel's wings and works, as some men hold?
Or waiting Evolution's change, unawed?
All is a mystery, as Saint Paul has told,
Saying: " Your life is hid with Christ in God. "